


Helianthus Mortis

by sapphicscullyy



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer Arc, Case Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26084017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicscullyy/pseuds/sapphicscullyy
Summary: A kind-of case fic set at the end of the cancer arc and inspired by the Greek myth of Persephone and Hades.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Helianthus Mortis

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this for an assignment which had a word limit of 2000 and so I had to cut quite a bit out... but if people like it I could turn this into an actual case fic??

_ 3:12 am _ _   
_ _ March 2nd 1993 _ _   
_ _ J. Edgar Hoover Building _

Fox Mulder sat with his feet up on the desk, an old lamp providing the only source of light by which he could read. The rest of the office was shrouded in abyssal black, as was the corridor outside. His was most likely the only light left on in the entire building, every other agent having gone home hours ago; it was late, even by his standards. A bag of sunflower seeds sat forgotten, the shells left in a pile which threatened to cascade off the edge, a few having already landed on the floor. But his focus was trained solely on the page in front of him, completely unaware of his surroundings, unable to tear his gaze away. 

“ _ Einstein’s Twin Paradox: A New Interpretation _ ” a senior thesis written by Dana Scully. His new partner.

He had scoffed when they had informed him that the X-Files unit was being assigned a new agent, likely being sent with the purpose of shutting him down, but as his eyes danced across the page, flitting from word to word, he was entranced. He had read it six times already, making small, unintelligible notes in the margins, utterly enthralled by the ways in which her mind worked. 

He knew that he should go home, pretend to get a decent amount of sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Her mind and her words were enchanting, she was able to devise a senior thesis which had the ability to bewitch him, leaving him desperate for more.

* * *

_ 8:36 am _ _   
_ _ April 27th 1997 _ _   
_ _ J. Edgar Hoover Building _

Mulder walked into the basement office one morning to find Scully sitting behind the desk, having just hung up the phone. It wasn’t unusual for her to beat him there occasionally, though he was always caught slightly off guard by it. 

“Who was that?” he inquired in lieu of a greeting, tentatively placing one of the coffee cups he was holding on the desk in front of her. It was a risk, bringing her coffee. He had seen her become so nauseated by the smell alone that she had to run to the restroom. But that had been a bad day. 

He hated the bad days.

So when she took the coffee cup between her hands, the worry that had wound tight around him slackened its grip. She held it close but didn’t take a sip, using it as a source of warmth as opposed to a drink. That was something he had noticed. She always seemed to be cold. No matter how high the heating was turned up, she never took off her coat. Sometimes he thought about bringing blankets into the office, but he didn’t, knowing that she would turn them down rather than admitting her weakness. Sometimes he hated how well he knew her. 

“It was Skinner,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. A small frown creased her brow. “He requested a meeting with me.”

“When?”

“Now.” She stood up from behind the desk, leaving her coffee behind as she moved towards the door.

“Agent Scully,” he teased, “did you do something wrong?”

The corners of her lips quirked upwards and he saw a playful glint in her eyes. “He probably wants to clarify something you put in one of your reports,” she quipped.

He snorted a laugh as she slipped out the door, but his smile faded as soon as the door closed softly behind her. He slumped heavily into the chair in front of the desk, his head falling into his hands. 

He was almost certain of what Skinner had summoned her alone to ask. He would insist that she consider finally taking her medical leave. He wouldn’t ask her to resign, that would sound too permanent, too final. Medical leave created the illusion that she would be returning to work as soon as she felt well enough to do so again. But that wouldn’t happen. 

Once she left, she would not return. Ever.

His emotions were at war within himself. He wished above anything else that she had stopped working months ago. Wished she had taken the opportunity to spend time with her mother and brothers. That she had gone travelling to places she’d never been before, and not just to the towns in the middle of nowhere that he had decided warranted their investigation. That she had spent the time she had left with anyone else but him. But there was the small, selfish part of him that wished for her to remain with him, working by his side until the day her body can no longer take it. 

She had collapsed last week. In the middle of performing an autopsy. He had come in to check on her progress when he found her unconscious on the floor with blood streaming from her nose. His heart had stopped dead in his chest at the sight of her lying there, a cruel voice ringing in his head that had told him:  _ this is it _ . 

He hadn’t let her out of his sight since then. She hadn’t said anything when he ensured that she wouldn’t be left by herself for the rest of the case, but he knew that she had noticed. He had stopped by her apartment on the weekend with the weak excuse of crosschecking their reports. When it became clear that she was unable to get herself off the couch, he had made her lunch, which he made sure she ate at least a few bites of, then flicked on a movie as she dozed fitfully by his side. 

He had not realised how much time had passed until the office door creaked open and Scully stepped inside, looking withdrawn and held captive by her own thoughts. 

“What did the charming Assistant Director want?” he asked, though he desperately did not want to hear her answer.

“He’s sending me on a case.” 

It took a moment for her words to sink in. At first, he was surprised that he had been wrong about the subject of the meeting, then the meaning of her words hit him and his insides churned. She was being sent on a case. Without him. Alone.

She mistook his stunned silence as acquiescence and continued. “Do you remember the Harrisburg Butcher case the Bureau handled a few years ago?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “The killer confessed to the murder of fourteen women, but only one body was ever found. Yesterday, a farmer in Hellam Township, Pennsylvania, unearthed the rest. The country morgue is overflowing with bodies and the local pathologist needs assistance to perform all the autopsies quickly.”

“But, Scully-” he began to protest.

“My flight leaves at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.” At least Skinner had been courteous enough to allow her to fly instead of travelling over two hours in the car by herself. 

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, Mulder.” Her tone left no room for discussion. “I’m fine.”

“He can’t make you do this.” 

Her head flew up and she met his gaze with fire burning in her eyes. “Skinner is not making me do anything, Mulder,” she hissed. “He asked if I would do it, and I said ‘yes’.”

There was a moment of silence, prickling with suffocating tension.

“Can I drive you to the airport?” he asked.

She instinctively bristled before realising there was no hidden barb behind his words.

“Sure,” she sighed, then added softly, “Thank you.”

A peace had been reached, though Mulder’s insides churned at the thought of her being too far away for him to help if anything went wrong. He wondered if now would be the right time to recite the speech he had been practising in the mirror for the past few weeks.

But he looked up and saw a thin line of blood oozing from her nose. 

“Scully,” he breathed, his concern and alarm evident in his voice.

Her hand flew to her nose. “It’s fine, Mulder. Excuse me.” She stood up and fled from the office, leaving him alone.

* * *

_ 9:02 am _ _   
_ _ April 28th 1997 _ _   
_ __ Dulles International Airport

They had already been waiting at the airport for about an hour, despite Scully’s attempts to make him leave. They were sitting side by side, looking out at the terminals, watching the planes come and go. Scully had run him through the case, telling him the tale of how the local PD had finally caught the Harrisburg Butcher in the act, and therefore found the only body that they were able to recover out of fourteen murders. At least fourteen known murders. But that topic of conversation had been exhausted half an hour ago, and neither had spoken since. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but Mulder wished it would end. He thought of his speech, and his knee began bouncing. 

“Can you get me a coffee?” She broke the silence with a seemingly innocent request laced with deeper meaning. She was trying to tell him that she was fine, saying that if she could stomach coffee, that she would be fine when she was alone in a different state. But she also confessed weakness, intentionally or not, in her asking him to get it for her. Perhaps she was too tired or too dizzy to stand, or perhaps she just wanted a moment away from him. 

“Anything else?” She shook her head and he stood, heading to the closest coffee shop.

He ordered them both coffees, adding a pastry on the side in case she got hungry during the flight. She probably wouldn’t. His gaze roamed around the airport as he waited, watching people go by. He saw someone drop their luggage and jump into another’s arms, watched as they held each other close, refusing to let go even as people pushed past them. His eyes then landed on Scully. She had her head bowed and her eyes closed, as if she were praying. Maybe she was.

Her head snapped up as her flight was announced over the loudspeaker. Now he knew for certain that her coffee would end up in the bin; she wouldn’t take it on the flight with her, and she wouldn’t wait the extra five minutes it would take to drink it. She was itching to move into the boarding line with the rest of the passengers, he could tell, but he knew she would wait for him to return first. 

The display in the newsagents next to the coffee shop caught his eye. Sunflower seeds. He would struggle to convey everything he needed to in his words, but perhaps sunflower seeds would help. He purchased the seeds, grabbed the coffees and pastry and walked back to where she was seated.

He handed her coffee over without saying anything, and she nodded her thanks. The packet of sunflower seeds shifted under his arm and he thought once again of his speech, and realised it would never work. The best conversations they had were the ones without words. To be able to tell a person everything one needed to say with words alone was an impossibly improbable feat. And so he revised his speech, edited it in his head, and took in a breath.

“Here,” he said simply, holding the sunflower seeds in an outstretched hand. 

She examined his gift with an inquisitor’s eye, taking the packet gingerly from him. “I won’t eat all of these.”

“Then I’ll finish them when you get back.”

The request of a promise hung from his words. Assurance that she would return exactly as she had left. He saw in her eyes that she had understood. Perhaps not everything, but some things were too exquisitely complicated to be expressed in a single moment.

“I’ll see you soon, Mulder.” That was her promise to him. She stood, gathering her bags, and joined the line of other passengers. He waited until she passed through the doors before he moved from his seat.

Soon. He could live with that. 


End file.
